


Metal and pain

by TheWoodburn



Series: Of Feathers and Ash [1]
Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWoodburn/pseuds/TheWoodburn
Summary: The cold floor of the warehouse seemed to be growing icier, and even though Jason logically knew that they were in Gotham, his mind took him to a country of snow and snuffed hope. His chest burned, the world blurring as he took a few breaths trying to beat down the pain so the scream couldn't make it out of his mouth. “A man has to keep some secrets.”





	1. Prologue

Jason gritted his teeth as the crow bar was drawn back, aimed for his side this time. He’d lost count after the blackness of his collapsed lung claimed him for a span of time. He’d managed not to scream yet. Had told himself, and the Joker, in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t, but the promise was getting harder with every smack of metal against flesh. Jason had no idea how long the man had been going on. That god awful laughter once again rang out in the room. He watched the bloodied steel flash in the light, and arc forward. Dimly, he heard the crack of crushed cartilage and snapping bone, and realized it was one of his own ribs when pain rocketed through his chest and up his torso until it met with the nerves of his shattered shoulder, turning to searing fire. He convulsed in his bonds, instinctively trying to both get away and keep his weight off his injuries as much as possible. Blood filled his mouth when he bit the side of his mouth to muffle the scream, and he swallowed it to counteract the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him

"You're not any fun." The Joker sounded sad. "You've got a nice voice but you don't use it." He made a contemplative humming sound. “I’d hoped that we could answer the question about forehand and backhand this time.”

The cold floor of the warehouse seemed to be growing icier, and even though he logically knew that they were in gotham, his mind took him to a country of snow and snuffed hope. His chest burned, the world blurring as he took a few breaths trying to beat down the pain so the scream couldn't make it out of his mouth. “A man has to keep some secrets.”

He focused his breathing as the man drew closer, shutting out pain from the beating that had already taken place in preparation for the next hit. The Joker raised the crowbar again, and Jason found himself tracking the angle. He closed his eyes, hating to do so but that was a better concession than actually screaming. He felt himself mercifully begin to slip into unconsciousness. The world was turning black as his lung started to give up the fight. The black dots danced in his eyesight and his other senses started to dull.

He couldn't tell if it was hours later or seconds, but the sound of heels on the concrete floor brought him to attention. On instinct, Jason immediately tried to test what mobility he had left, willing his arm to bend. It behaved after a few tries, as well as it could under tension, but his fingers refused to take commands, even the effort making his vision turn white with pain. His remaining lung was working overtime to keep him near the surface. Jason's mouth tasted overwhelming like copper and knew it had to be the internal bleeding.

The person, most likely female, stopped by him. He forced himself to go stock still, keeping his breathing even, making it seem like he was asleep. It was the end for him, because the Joker would never allow Jason to escape his clutches again, not after Jason ruined his joke. He tensed as much as his body would allow, waiting for the sharp sting of new pain to join the gnaw of old pain. He involuntary hissed when a cold hand touched his face. It was gone just as quickly as it came, almost silent humming joining the drip of water.

It wasn't a second later he began to fade again, the pain rising like a wave to drag him under. And as he floated away, carried by a tide of agony, he felt his body rising.


	2. Chapter 2

He can’t see. He can’t see. It’s dark and there is no light at all, and he can’t move and he can’t see, and there’s screaming laughter around him, and he’s terrified because he knows that voice. He knows that voice. That laughter—that goddamn manic laughter that haunts him wherever he goes.

A guttural scream, and Jason hears the telltale snapping of bone. He struggles against his bonds, wrists burning as he pulls harder and harder until his skin breaks and pours warm blood down his fingers. Someone is screaming so shrill and loud that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst. Jason drags himself up, reaching out with a cry for the person screaming, but his cry is raspy and fading. Belatedly he realizes that he must have been the one screaming, his fingers shaking as he reaches up to his eyes, finding a trail of slickness and he just cant—

Jason wakes up thrashing, clawing at his face, and pushing himself as far back as he physically can. He can still hear screaming in the distance and it takes him a while to realise the screaming voice is his own. His body aches, and still half-asleep, Jason lashes out at the cold hands that try to hold him.

A part of him, the Robin in those pixie boots he can never really suppress, begs for those hands to belong to Bruce, for his father to finally have come for him. His shaking torso is gently lowered onto something soft and with a rustle the soft surface listed to his side. Cold fingers start to stroke his hair the rhythmic gesture soothing.

And the little Robin that had been kindling a small hope inside of him faded away. Bruce would never touch anyone so gently. Maybe Dick would, with his octo-arms and touch centered self, but Jason doubted it was him. Dick would never touch him so gently again, not after Jason had nearly killed Damian and Tim.

Not his best moment, but those memories reeked so strongly of the Pit he found it hard to think about them and not feel the phantom screams of its madness.

Slowly, far to slowly, Jason slumps, exhausted from the fight with his mind. The fingers pause for a moment, then resume their stroking.

"Rest." A voice like shadows whispered. Jason should be afraid, but he isn't. If they had wanted to hurt him they would have, and what torturer would soothe a victims nightmare.

They shift closer to him, and lips brush his forehead. "This place is safe from all the demons who haunt you, past or present. Place what little trust you have left in that."

Jason barely manages to nod, the hazy twilight drawing him back under.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Jason noticed when he came to was that he wasn't in pain. Its wasn't the result of drugs-Jason knew drugs and knew the feeling of being hopped up, and he definitely wasn't. All in all it was not a pleasant feeling. He should be hurting and he wasn't. 

Wherever he was did not smell like the warehouse which was a distinct mix of oil, sweat, mildew and several other spare scents he hadn't payed much attention to. But more importantly this place smelled of something like night blooming roses and ice, and Jason couldn't stop the smirk from stretching across his face.

Comfort. Relief. He doesn't know. It was kind of a toss up when what Jason sees is not the warehouse. Far from it. Everything he sees is opulent, from the satin bedspread to the gold filigree on the grey wall paper. She sits in front of the only window, charcoal smeared up her hands as she flicked the stick over a sketchbook stuffed with notes, the pages wrinkled from paint and age. Late afternoon light filters through dust motes floating around her. She turns to look at him, black curls shifting over the floor. She rests her nearly black hand against porcelain skin, smearing charcoal all over her chin.

"You’ll be the death of me, Jason.”

Jason shifts into a sitting position, taking a moment to make sure he had pants on. "You need a little excitement in that boring old life of yours."

She huffs at him before dropping her hands back to the paper, rubbing at it with a black finger. Jason knows she is furious at him, he can read the biting anger in the lines of her face.

He found himself sliding out of bed, leaving the warmth and comfort of the silk and satin. Her crimson lips are set in a line and her eyes don't even flicker to him when he kneels down in front of her. 

"Kira?" He murmurs gently, hoping this wont lead into one of their spectacular knock down drag out fights.

Those midnight green eyes too old to belong to a mortal glittered fever bright, the bloodless skin pulled taut over her cheekbones. “I’m very angry at you, Jason.”

"I had a plan.” He protested.

She closes her eyes, dropping her forehead against his. "Your plans always end with the word premeditated being thrown around the courtroom and a week long visit to the emergency room."

Jason laughed as she smiled against his hair. "Now that the inevitable 'you've been stupid and I very much would like to smack you' speech is done, can I get some of that wine?" 

Kira laughs her wind chime laugh, turning to the side table and the wine. "Y'know thats not what an apology sounds like."

"Bite me." He snorts as she tips the green bottle back, cheeks slightly puffed with the liquid when she returns it to table. Gently, as if cradling glass, her almost ice cold hands find his face tilting it just slightly as to not spill a drop when her mouth meets his. Lips like satin open and the sharp taste of hundred year old alcohol floods Jason's mouth. Not enough that he would choke and he eagerly drinks from her. Kira, throughout her life has used wealth, influence, and shockingly good timing to cultivate one of the most highly priced wine cellars in the world, a fact Jason is happy to exploit in calming his demons. Alcohol never solved and problems but it has helped put them off to another day. 

They part when Jason cant stand his need for air anymore, Kira pulling back instinctively. Her loose black curls had fallen around his face as he drank, blocking the light. Now as she pulled back light seared his eyes, a shiver crawling up his spine. He can revel in this moment for a little longer before his makes its new fractures known.

There is ancient knowledge in those eyes of midnight green, mixed with flickers of emotion so other as to be nothing known. "Speak of your mind."

Jason swallows, knowing she forces this like a doctor would force the lancing of a wound. "I thought you had forgotten about me."

He looked into that perfect face and saw the echoes of cruelty, of time. But her harsh features soften as she wraps her arms around him, drawing him into a shoulder covered by her soft worn shirt. "Never."

Kira's whisper broke open something inside of him, and molten metal poured over a section of him. Not to hurt or harm, but to fill the cracks, to forge something new and stronger than it was before. 

A sweep of midnight ebony moves around him, feathers ensconcing them away from the world. Jason, who had been gripping her shirt now found himself stroking the arch of her wing. For the most part, Kira kept her form closely human, but he found that her wings would appear should either of them be emotional.

But then again, Jason thinks as he looks into pure spring green eyes that are slanted inhumanly surrounded by wings made of midnight shadows, she isn't human. So why should he expect her to act as one?

So they sit in front of the window, the light from a dying star falling to the shadows around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was my first fanfiction so be generous in ignoring my mistakes... but please comment and review, so that i can fix anything and improve. This is not a stand alone but will be part of a series soon, so maybe a few questions i let go unanswered will be answered. Jason will be confronting the mental scars caused by this encounter with the Joker, and im going to be bringing in the BatFamily peice by peice. And no, Im probably will never going to write how they meet each other, as i really cant think up a good plot. Are they in love with each other, or just friends? It will be written so check back for my next work in this series sometime soon.


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